It was a favour to Pavel and a stupid, drunken decision that saved his life, only I didn't realize it at the time. In fact, when I set out that night, my only goal was only to get drunk and forget about old What's-His-Face who couldn't keep his mitts off the waitress down the hall. After I caught her, ahem, waiting on him on our kitchen table, good old WHF and I were kaput. I'd packed up the few things I couldn't live without while he put his pants on and left his apartment for good. Only I couldn't seem to get him out of my mind - hence the drinking.
I was way past tipsy and well on the way to stinking drunk when my phone rang. After a long moment of sloppy concentration, I managed to pull it from where I'd stashed it in my pocket and hit the big green button that seemed to be designed with drunken people in mind. I approved. "Hello," I slurred, surprised at how hard it was to manage those double L's. Maybe I was a little drunker than I'd thought.
"Kenz?" came the voice from the other end of the line. "Is that you?"
"Yes it's me," I said, taking a sip of the scotch the bartender had just set on the table in front of me. Each drink burned less and less, and this one went down as smooth as water. "Why are you in my phone?" I knew the question was stupid the moment I asked it and gave my head a little shake to clear it. I tried again. "Who is this?" Better.
"It's Pavel," said my cousin, sounding irritated. "Are you drunk?" I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my drink. It's not like I hadn't seen Pavel fall down drunk a million times. He didn't have any room to judge.
"Maybe. What's it to you?"
"I need a favour." Refusal was my first instinct. I'd had a bad day, old What's-His-Face and I were toast, and I was out one place to live. All I wanted to do was sit in my cozy little booth and drink. Surely that wasn't too much to ask? "You owe me, Kenzi," he added, piling on the guilt. He was right; I did owe him. If not for something that he'd done for me already then it'd be for something he did soon. Like letting me sleep it off on his couch. That sounded nice.
"Fine," I caved, downing the rest of my scotch in one gulp. "But it has to be something I can do drunk." Turns out, it was.
The taxi rolled up to the airport just a few minutes before my meeting. What Pavel was having me pick up I didn't know, and I didn't I want to know. All I knew was that I had to be at the airport at 11:30 and I was meeting Jerry, an overweight brunette in a hideous green windbreaker, near concourse three. Pavel hadn't specified the hideous, of course, but one can only assume when it comes to windbreakers.
I slid on a pair of oversized sunglasses against the bright lights in the terminal and did my best to walk like a sober person. It's harder than it sounds after downing five very strong, very delicious drinks. I managed a smile as I strolled past a couple of security guards, focusing all my attention on putting one foot in front of the other. The guards barely batted an eyelash, so I suppose I passed. Jerry was already waiting near the empty concourse when I made it to our meeting place. I was proud to have gotten there without a face plant.
"Hey Jerry, where's the loot?" I nearly shouted, sending a fierce-looking Jerry jumping a foot into the air. I'd never seen a grown man outside of the NBA jump so high in my life and I resisted the crazed urge to laugh right in his face. I was sober enough to realize that laughing at Pavel's shady business associate in a deserted section of the airport was probably a bad idea. There was a reason this meeting was in the airport, after all. I held my hands up to him, palms out. "Chill, man. Pavel sent me?" Jerry would know that, of course. Pavel would have called ahead. But that didn't keep Jerry from eying me like I had a sword up my sleeve, literally. Why he thought he wouldn't be able to see it through the sheer lace, I had no idea. He watched me some more and fidgeted noisily in his windbreaker. It was hideous, as predicted, and I wondered where he had managed to find a windbreaker straight from the 90's so far into the 21st century. Maybe he bought it in the 90's and worked hard to keep it nice? The thought of heavy-set mean-looking Jerry going home to baby his favourite windbreaker was almost too much for my alcohol soaked brain to take and I tried to hide my laugh with a cough. It didn't work.
"What's funny?" he asked gruffly, his thick, bushy eyebrows drawing together in a half-faced scowl. Apparently he'd decided I wasn't a threat because he unzipped his windbreaker and produced an envelope from the pocket of his t-shirt.
"Nothing," I said, clearing my throat and forcing the smile from my face. I would have plenty of time later to think about Jerry giving his windbreaker a bath and tucking it in with a bedtime story. This was serious business. "I've just been drinking." He accepted my excuse with a grunt and handed over the envelope. It seemed empty except for something flat and heavy weighting down one corner. Had Pavel taken up coin collecting? I thought not. I folded the envelope and slid it into the top of my shirt, tucking it firmly against my chest under the band of my bra. If I drew the attention of the security guards on my way out it was definitely better if the envelope and its mysterious contents were out of sight.
After a quick goodbye to Windbreaker Jerry, I made my way back through the airport. I was pleased to find walking to be a bit easier on the way out than it had been on the way in, but I wasn't pleased about the meaning. I was sobering up. And with thoughts of waitress groping What's-His-Face still fresh in my mind, I wasn't into that. I needed another drink and fast. Pavel would just have to wait to get his package.
"Take me to whichever bar is closest," I told the taxi driver, sliding back into the cab that had brought me to the airport. According to the meter, I'd only been in the inside for five minutes. It'd felt longer. The cabbie complied with barely a word and we were pulling up in front of a seedy looking bar just a few minutes later. I paid the fare and let the taxi go. I didn't plan to stay all night but I definitely had intentions of staying more than a couple of minutes.
I was still at the bar two hours later when my phone rang. This time, even the giant, drunk friendly button caused me some problems. "What is it?" I slurred once I'd managed to mash the button and get the phone to my ear.
"Where the hell are you?" The voice was angry and familiar, but I couldn't place it at first. After an embarrassingly long moment, it clicked – Pavel. I groaned. I'd almost completely forgotten about the envelope nestled against my chest. I patted myself outside of my clothing to make sure it was still there.
"I've got it, I'm coming," I mumbled, turning to face away from the bar on the stool I'd been perched upon for the last couple of hours. It surprised me to see how full the place had gotten around me since I'd arrived. Nearly every stool, every table, and every booth was full. I slid off the stool that had surely molded to my ass and stumbled a bit when my feet hit the floor. Through some miracle, I managed to stay upright. I stood still while the room leveled out. "I just took a detour," I said, suddenly remembering I still held the phone to my ear. I tucked it back into my pocket without hanging up. My fingers felt clumsy and getting it into my pocket was hard enough without having to worry about the finer points of pushing buttons. I'd let Pavel worry about that on his end.
It was when I was making my way through the crowded bar to appease Pavel that I saw them. I couldn't pretend they looked okay, even at first glance. One of the men looked completely normal – dark skin, kind of tall, snappy dresser. The other man was wearing a dark cloak that obscured literally every one of his features but his substantial height. And, alarmingly, he seemed to have his long, pale fingers pressed tightly around Snazzy Dresser's neck. I stopped where I stood and watched them disappear down the hall leading to the bathrooms. No one else seemed to notice Mr. Conspicuous in his dark cloak.
I'm still not sure what exactly I was thinking. Surely if I haven't spent the previous two hours drinking heavily I would have made a different decision. But I had been drinking heavily. In fact, I'd been drinking anything I could get my hands on since the second I'd set foot in the bar, so I think it's fair to say that my decision to act wasn't all together rational. All I knew right then was that Snazzy Dresser needed help and I was just the chick for the job. Super Kenz to the rescue! I could barely restrain the urge to mime flying while I extracted the brass knucks I kept in the waist band of my pants "just in case," and hoofed it across the bar.
There was no sign of the men by the time I'd made my way into the hall. I assumed that they would only have two options at this point – men or women – but it turns out I was wrong. A door with a big, red exit sign atop stood at the end of the hall. I didn't waste any time in deciding which way to go and I found myself bursting through the door to the alley behind the bar before my brain had time to catch up. I stumbled down the wooden step outside the door and landed on my hands and knees on the asphalt. I was sure I'd opened the skin on my hands at the very least but couldn't feel a thing through the adrenaline and alcohol. I scanned my surroundings once my head stopped spinning and it surprised me to discover that my sudden appearance hadn't stopped the action in the alley.
My eyes locked in on Mr. Conspicuous right away. He had Snazzy Dresser against a wall and seemed to be doing his best to choke the life right out of the man. Snazzy Dresser didn't look amused. Remembering I'd appointed myself superhero du jour, I dragged myself to standing as quickly as possible with an assist from a nearby dumpster. After a few seconds, I was confident in my footing and was ready to save the day. I made a fist, grasping the brass knuckles tightly, and charged Mr. Conspicuous with my best imitation of a war cry.
It was my scream that startled him enough to release his grip, and Snazzy Dresser was free before I'd even gone two steps. His body made a sickening sound as it connected with the ground and I had a moment to wonder if I was too late. Then I was within striking distance of my target. I swung the hand with the brass knuckles towards his face with all the force I possessed and pain reverberated through my arm at impact. Mr. Conspicuous staggered back and shrieked like an arachnophobe who'd just spotted a spider. Let's make that a girly arachnophobe who'd just spotted a spider. I froze in the alley staring into the cloak-where-a-face-should-be completely dumbfounded. I guess Mr. Conspicuous could be a Misses. Or even a Junior. Junior Conspicuous had kind of a nice ring to it.
Normally I would have been ready for retaliation. If someone had punched me in the face with brass knucks I sure as hell would have retaliated. But my brain was running slow and I was preoccupied with the sex of Conspicuous, so was terribly surprised when I found myself flat on my back, a presumably angry Conspicuous straddling my chest.
"Hey, we can work this out," I said, trying to extract the hand holding the brass knucks out from under my body. My left hand, the one that was all fist, was free as could be. Of course it would work out that way. Superman never had these problems. "I didn't mean anything by that punch before." Except to knock your teeth in. "I've just had a little too much to drink." Conspicuous seemed unmoved; I guess he or she wasn't as familiar with drunkenness as Windbreaker Jerry was.
While I was wriggling around uselessly trying to free my arm and feeling like an uncoordinated mess of a superhero, shit got serious quickly. Conspicuous raised his arm and let the cloak fall back from his hand, revealing what appeared to be very sharp, very scary looking claws. I stared at them and blinked, then blinked again. Surely the claws were the alcohol at work. I had just seen him choke a dude to death with his fingers for god's sake. Not even a cloaked weirdo could grow claws, right? And wasn't I the superhero in this situation?
I didn't have time to work out the details before the apparently clawed hand was raised and swinging toward my head. Trapped and utterly defenseless, I closed my eyes and readied myself for the impact.
The impact came, just not quite where I was expecting. Sharp claws raked across my left arm, tearing through my sleeve and into my skin. Not even the alcohol could numb the pain and I screamed, grateful Conspicuous had bad aim. I breathed deeply a few times trying to master the pain, and only realized I was no longer pinned to the ground when my right hand raised unfettered to cover my wound. Suddenly, there was a man blonde man kneeling next to me.
"Can you see it?" he asked urgently, grabbing my good arm and pulling me to sitting. The change in position was unexpected and sent my head spinning. My stomach churned and for a moment I was certain I was going to be sick. He reached across me to grab my other arm, the one that had been fucked up by Conspicuous, and I hissed in pain. He looked surprised when he pulled his hand away and saw the blood. "Hey, focus," he said, giving me a little shake and positioning himself so he could look into my eyes. "The thing that attacked you – do you see it anywhere?" Wishing I hadn't had quite so much to drink and trying to ignore the spinning, I glanced around the alleyway.
"Behind you," I said, falling flat on my back as soon as the curly-haired man released me. From my supine position on the dirty pavement, I could see him lunge for the cloaked figure behind him. Conspicuous stepped to the side easily and the blonde man grabbed at thin air. He spun on the spot to look down at me with eyes I was sure weren't yellow a moment before.
"Where," he growled, flashing more canine that I was sure he'd had a minute ago.
"There." I pointed to his left and watched him lunge into the space where the cloaked figure had been just seconds prior. I frowned at him. Could he really not see that idiot covered head to foot in brown robes? How was that even possible? "Over there," I volunteered with a point when he came up empty-handed. He lunged again, came up empty again, and I watched the cloaked figure dart out of the alley. Yellow Eyes looked back at me, frustration etched into every feature. "He's gone." I let my head drop down to the pavement and closed my eyes against the spinning. I lay still for what felt like a long time, breathing heavily and wondering how the hell the world was still twirling like a top when I was lying flat on my back. As the minutes passed, I slowly became aware of a new pain – one right on the back of my head. Apparently I'd hit it at some point which was probably the reason for crazed spinning. I groaned out loud. This shit never happened to Batman.
"Are you okay?" I'd almost forgotten Yellow Eyes was still in the alley and pried open my eyes to look at him. I wouldn't have thought he was a bad-looking man if I'd seen him around. He was tallish and broad, with a narrow waist and a dark blonde beard. I noticed that his eyes were no longer yellow and seemed to have taken on a bluish hue.
"Is he okay?" I asked, ignoring his question and pushing myself to sitting. I tried very, very hard not to hurl. I poked at the lump on the back of my head with my bloody fingers, the ones still gripping tightly to the brass knucks, and hissed at the pain. I was definitely going to have a headache for a while.
"He'll be fine," Yellow Eyes said, pressing his fingers to the unconscious man's wrist. If Snazzy Dresser's skin had been lighter, I was sure the bruises would be visible on his neck by now. "He's breathing. I guess that's all we can ask for right now." I nearly snorted at that. Maybe that's all Yellow Eyes could ask for; there were a whole host of things that I could ask for. Like a Tylenol, a cute puppy to cuddle and love, a balanced equilibrium, or a place to sleep.
Oh fuck.
"Oh fuck," I said, my innie thoughts becoming outies. Pavel was going to kill me. I lurched to my feet before my brain could warn my body that sudden movements weren't a good idea and staggered as the whole world rocked beneath me. The alley seemed to get darker as blackness narrowed my vision and I could barely hear Yellow Eyes talking over the ringing in my ears. My head throbbed along with the pounding of my heart as I took one step, then two, then found myself eating pavement. The blackness swallowed me against my will.
I awoke to sunlight streaming across my face and managed to lean out of the bed in time to vom into the conveniently placed trash can. After turning myself totally inside out I lay back on the mattress, tossing an arm over my face to block out the light. I hurt everywhere. It didn't seem that one part of me had been spared the pain – I hurt from the top of my head to the tips of my pinky toes. My poor little pinky toes. I breathed slowly, deeply, in through my nose and out through my mouth in an attempt to control the pain and keep the nausea at bay. What the hell happened last night? I remembered What's-His-Face and the bimbo down the hall but the rest of the night was a blur. It took a few minutes of determined effort but it finally came back to me – everything from Pavel's call and the airport visit to the cloaked figured and Yellow Eyes in the alley. But what had happened after that?
I dragged my arm away from my eyes and squinted against the sunlight that was definitely brighter this morning just to spite me. I was tempted to toss my arm right back over my face and go to sleep but there were more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. Like where the hell had I spent the night?
Once my eyes had adjusted to the light enough for me see through a squint, I could tell that I was in an apartment. Kind of. The room was huge and sparsely furnished, with little more than a bed, a tiny kitchen, and some exercise equipment. The walls were exposed brick painted gray and a whole wall was dedicated to those big, dingy windows that factories seemed to love. I definitely didn't know anyone who lived in an apartment like this. Maybe I had met someone and had a rebound fling? It seemed doubtful. I sat up in the bed, fighting through the nausea, and was glad to see that I was completely dressed. Not even my boots were missing. Guess that ruled out the whole rebound angle.
I scanned the room again, slowly, so as not to upset my sensitive stomach, and caught a glimpse of white that had me looking down. Someone had bandaged my arm, the one that had been damaged by Conspicuous the night before, and had, apparently, brought me to their apartment. And put me in their bed. And put a trash can by the bed? And left me, a strange chick who passed out in an alley, totally unattended? What the hell? I guess maybe details like leaving strange chicks alone in your apartment didn't matter so much when all you had to steal was protein shakes and hand weights.
I whipped my head around at a noise behind one of the two doors in the room and a wave of nausea at the sudden movement had me bending back over the waste basket. My stomach was empty except for bile and it burned something fierce on the way up. When I was sure I was done and steady enough for the time being, I stood carefully and slowly made my way to the door. I pressed my ear against it and listened. I could just make out the sound of the shower running. I guess I wasn't completely unattended after all.
A shrill noise coming from my pocket made me jump. I paused for a moment to see how my body would react and was glad not to have to make a mad dash for the trash can. I dug my phone out of my pocket, which simple sober, and looked at display. Fourteen missed calls and twelve text messages. All from Pavel. Great, just freaking great. I slipped my hand down my shirt to feel for the envelope I was sure I had lost and was surprised to find it right where I'd left it. At least something had worked out right last night. Now to get out of this place and get it to Pavel.
I glanced at the bathroom door as I made my way across the room to the door that certainly led to freedom, wondering for just a moment if it really was Yellow Eyes in there. If it was, why had he brought me back here? Why not just leave me in the alley? Could he tell me more about Conspicuous and his ( or her) mysterious disappearing claws? Could he explain his magical colour changing eyes? Was Snazzy alive? Was he still okay?
The last questions concerned me the most but I pushed them aside along with the others. Whether or not I was concerned, I couldn't stay. If I did I would get to ask my questions, but I'd likely have to answer some pretty unpleasant ones myself. It was easier this way. It was better this way. It was safer this way for all parties involved.
I locked the door behind me when I left the apartment.